Andrew knew it was time. He was ready. He needed to reach a stage where he would feel safe enough to truly immerse himself in the academy's ancient knowledge. He sought something beyond rote memorization, something beyond basic cultivation skills. This time, he went to his training room alone. Lucy and Amanda would only distract him, and he needed every wisp, every molecule of qi he could gather.
His preparation was thorough. He exchanged three drops of his semen up to the age of 12, a transaction costing three hundred merit points, for a Foundation Establishment qi-gathering technique. This wasn't just any technique; it was a specialized method to draw vast quantities of ambient qi into his immediate vicinity, creating a dense, almost tangible aura around him.
He sat cross-legged on the cool floor of his private training room, the air already thick with his effort. He began to saturate his body with qi, the very essence of the world pouring into him. He directed the flow, pushing it through his meridians, into his organs, his muscles, his bones, until he felt an almost unbearable pressure. His skin prickled, his senses sharpened to an excruciating degree, every nerve ending alive. He was a vessel overflowing, stretched to its limit, yet still pulling more in. The air around him shimmered, bending light as qi pulsed visibly. He reached his saturation point, a trembling equilibrium where his body could hold no more.
It was time to begin.
He reached into his robe, his fingers closing around the lacquered box. He opened it, revealing the indigo and gold pill. A faint scent, earthy and ethereal, wafted from it, filling his nostrils. He popped the pill into his mouth, its flavor a complex intertwining of bitter herbs and sweet blossoms. It dissolved quickly, a warmth spreading through his throat, then igniting a fire in his core.
The pill was a beacon, a siren call to the boundless ocean of qi he had drawn close. His body, already brimming, now hungered with an insatiable appetite. He felt a strong suction from deep within his dantian, a vortex forming that pulled the ambient qi into him with incredible force. It rushed inward, a tangible river of energy, swirling, merging, transforming.
His meridians, once pathways, now became conduits for a torrent. He pushed through the discomfort as the qi poured in, his body groaning under the onslaught. His muscles twitched, his bones ached with the internal pressure, but he held firm, his focus absolute. He envisioned the qi condensing, solidifying, forming a stable foundation within him.
Hours passed. The initial torrent subsided, replaced by a steady, unwavering flow. The pain receded, leaving behind a dull throb, a deep resonance throughout his being. He directed the coalescing qi, shaping it into an intricate, self-sustaining system. He felt new pathways opening, new connections forming, strengthening the old ones. Every cell in his body was now saturated, not just with qi, but with a refined, denser version of it.
Finally, the sensation of external qi entering him ceased. The vortex in his dantian stabilized, a solid, unwavering core of power. He opened his eyes. The world looked sharper, colors more vibrant, sounds more distinct. He felt lighter, yet profoundly anchored. He stood, testing his limbs. A newfound spring entered his step. He flexed his hands, a subtle hum of power tingling beneath his skin. He had done it. He had reached Foundation Establishment. The first stage of true cultivation.
Andrew knew he needed to stabilize his cultivation. He continued to circulate the Foundation Establishment cultivation technique, ensuring every new internal pathway settled into place. He wanted to get everything right. The pill contained an immense reserve of energy, enough to sustain him for days without food or water. He devoted himself to cultivation, sitting in still meditation then moving through flowing forms, guiding the qi, smoothing its flow until it hummed with quiet efficiency. Two days passed in this focused state, his body, still changing, still integrating the newfound power. He was not approaching the age of nine soon. He was a nine-year-old Foundation Establishment cultivator.
He exited his training room, a new aura about him. He felt taller, somehow, though his physical height remained the same. The air in the academy halls, previously just air, now felt alive, brimming with qi he could sense without any concentration, subtly influencing his mood, his thoughts. His steps were lighter, almost silent. He walked with a different rhythm, a confidence that settled deep in his bones.
He found them, not surprisingly, waiting outside his door. Amanda's dark eyes shone, and a wide grin stretched across her face, while Lucy, ever the picture of casual elegance, leaned against the wall, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.
"You did it!" Amanda practically launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around his waist in a bone-crushing hug.
He returned the embrace, a genuine smile replacing his usual composed expression.
"Congratulations, little man," Lucy purred, her own arms enveloping him the moment Amanda released him. Her ample chest pressed against him.
He felt the soft mounds give, and he pulled back, a smirk of his own playing on his lips. "Thanks. Though, you know, it's not nice to try and seduce minors with those big tits, Lucy."
She snorted, a short, sharp burst of air. "Funny, Andrew."
It was Thursday. A holiday weekend stretched before him. He decided then and there. No more academy for a few days. He craved the familiar comforts of home and the easy laughter of Eva and Amara. This milestone deserved a personal celebration.
He walked into their modest apartment, a spring in his step, to find Eva humming a tune as she chopped vegetables and Amara meticulously polishing a small crystal figurine. Their everyday domesticity felt like a warm embrace after days of intense cultivation.
"I'm home," he announced, a lightness in his voice.
They both looked up, their expressions shifting from mundane concentration to joyful surprise. Eva's face broke into a radiant smile, while Amara clapped her hands together, a delighted squeal escaping her lips.
"You did well, didn't you? Your are a real cultivator now?" Eva's eyes, bright and full of affection, searched his.
He nodded, a sense of quiet pride radiating from him.
That night, their small apartment filled with the scent of roasted meat and sweet spices. Eva had pulled out all the stops, preparing a feast that covered their small dining table. A simple cake, decorated with fresh berries, crowned the meal. Laughter punctuated their conversation as they recounted the day's events, sharing stories and jokes. The evening passed in a blur of delicious food, good company, and warm affection. It was a celebration of family, of achievement, and of the simple joy of being together.
The next morning, Eva left for work as usual, her usual farewell kiss placed on Andrew's forehead. Amara, however, lingered. The air between them, usually charged with playful banter, now held a different kind of electricity. Andrew met her gaze, a silent understanding passing between them.
He led her to his room, closing the door softly behind them. She stood before him, her cheerful demeanor giving way to a raw anticipation. Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling with increasing speed.
He gently urged her onto the bed. She laid back, her eyes fixed on him, a silent invitation. He leaned down, his lips seeking the soft skin of her neck, then slowly trailing lower, to the swell of her breasts. He sucked, gently at first, then with increasing fervor, on one nipple, then the other. Amara arched her back, a soft moan escaping her throat. He pulled back, meeting her eyes, a mischievous glint in his own.
"Mommy," he whispered, the word hanging in the air between them, charged with hidden desires.
Her hips bucked, a gasp escaping her lips as her body convulsed, a wave of pleasure washing over her. She gripped the sheets, her knuckles white.
He watched, then after a minute, he turned her on all fours, her face pressed into the pillow. Her backside rose in the air, a silent offering. He knelt behind her, pressing his face into her, his nose brushing her slick opening.
"Soon," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against her skin. "Very soon, mommy, you'll be overflowing with cultivator semen from every hole."
Her body stiffened momentarily, then a violent tremor ran through her. She cried out, an uncontrolled sound of pure release, as her hips thrust back, again and again, against his face. Her body thrashed, her climax a frantic, desperate surge that left her shaking uncontrollably.